Untitled Age 13

it was a growing up poem for me.

Untitled, Age 13



Why can’t I seem to grasp your hands?

As they sway to and fro in font of my face

You are waiting for me to latch on

But my nerves and extremities are numb

Trapped in immobility like a caged beast





Society’s venom flows through my veins

Dreams and creative toxin merge together disfiguring my reality

I confuse days with years, lies with truth

As this warped image corrupts me

I am no longer lucid

For all of society’s opinions and stereotypes have been tainted

And I can no longer find the insane inside the surreal







My memories replay like a bootlegged tape

Weak and distorted

Over time they fade into mixed blurs of color and emotion

As I fall slowly into a state of dementia





I am fragile

My soul is permanently altered

It has been challenged throughout my existence

And now that your hand has departed from me

I have departed from myself





I suffocate these thoughts with creative movement

Following the rhythm of lost souls

Their distressing song grasps my spirit in an iron clutch

Distracting me from life and work

They shall continue to hammer down what resistance I have left

Until my shield has deteriorated, allowing the darkness to take control



I try to communicate, take my final stand

Applause exists within my head

But all my ears perceive is still motion

I search for an escape but the stage curtain falls, draping around me

I feel submerged underwater

For coldness is emitted from the shadows that grip me

And I strain to breath

But still I am numb





I now know your hand shall not return to break me out of this madness

To save me from this grief

The chains once again constrict me

For I was released too soon

Proven unsteady, un-prepared for the venom of human society





Your touch will always linger on my fingertips

Forever, as I am isolated, a puppet to hypocrisy

I am set back into my Pandora’s Box

Where the walls cannot hurt me

And the spirits can nevermore control me.

Shielded, from both fortune and pain.





Even though I am held back,

In a spurious reality

My life is far from ending

And my mind is far from sleeping

My soul cannot die, for your trace quietly lies, invisible, within it

And, still my heart beats on for you

 

Author's Note

this won honorable mention in the South Huntington Youth writes contest

Reviews

[Jason Henry]

"My memories replay like a bootlegged tape"
"My life is far from ending//And my mind is far from sleeping"
if you got honorable mention...those other poems mustve been something else! this is such a great piece of work...especially for me cause i can definitely relate to it.

[nightmask]

I love this kyle! It's how I felt as a child it describes I think many people's childhoods and the things they felt and saw that they could never put into words it's amazing how you put these words together!

[Chaotic Mind]

i think its really good! you said you wanted some help... and the only thing i can say is to maybe clarify who this is about, because the first half feels like its about someone you love/like, and the a later part feels like a mother or a parent.

[darkgurl]

I can feel your emotion in this, very well written here.